Misfire
by Toasterman
Summary: Darth Vader, the Dark Lord of the Sith, has finally found the location of someone who can lead him to his son, young Luke Skywalker. He would go himself, but instead, he brings along everyone's favorite bounty hunter. Hilarity ensues.


**Misfire**

Boba Fett strode down the hallway, piece of paper in hand, muttering to himself as he looked for room 639. He silently wondered how many droids it took to keep cloud city this clean, but soon dismissed the thought as unimportant as he came upon the room in question. Just like every other room in the entire city, room 639's door was spotlessly white, without a speck of dust on it.

However, unlike every other room in the entire city, room 639 contained one of the few people who knew the location of Luke Skywalker, and that made room 639 exceedingly important.

Fett looked back over his shoulder and motioned for his companion. "It's over here!"

Darth Vader poked his head out from behind one of the many support columns that lined the hallway. Stepping forward, the Dark Lord of the Sith squared his bulky frame with the door to room 639. "Very well, then," he rumbled, "Kick it in."

Fett lifted his boot and smashed it into the center of the door, which instantly blasted in off its hinges and careened across the interior, crashing into some decorative glass thing that hung from the ceiling. The two men entered, Fett skirting to one side to let Vader's large form by. As they entered, a man came out of the bathroom wearing a bath towel.

Upon seeing the destruction, the man's jaw dropped. "Hey, what the hell-"

Vader reached out and Force-choked him, bringing the man to his knees in record time. "Where is Skywalker!?" the Sith Lord boomed.

The man let out a weak gargling sound, which apparently wasn't good enough for Vader, as he soon repeated his query.

"Where is Skywalker!?"

The man tried desperately to respond, but instead of articulated words, a long strand of drool slid out of his mouth. It wasn't until the Dark Lord shouted his question a third time that Fett chose to speak up.

"With all due respect, sir, maybe he would respond if you let up on him a bit."

"What!?" Vader asked, whirling on Fett.

Fett shrugged. "In my experience, questioning people usually works better when both parties are capable of speech," he explained while the man choked behind them.

Vader nodded. "You may have a point."

He released the Force choke, and the man collapsed onto the glass-littered carpet, dry heaving as he got air back into his lungs.

"There, now you can speak," Vader said, "So, where is Skywalker!?"

The man shook his head. "I don't know any Skywalker!"

"I hate incompetence, and there is nothing more incompetent than someone who lies about things that my very own Imperial intelligence department has confirmed a hundred-fold!" Vader shouted, "I know that you know where Skywalker is! So tell me, or I will be forced to let my colleague here interrogate you!"

"I don't know a Skywalker! You've got me confused with someone else!"

Darth Vader sighed. "Fine," he said, then turned to Fett, "Your turn."

The near silent bounty hunter stepped forward, drawing his rifle. He pressed the barrel against the man's forehead and thumbed off the safety.

"Now, tell me," he said, "Where, is, Skywalker!?"

There was a bright flash of blue, and the man's entire body disintegrated, pieces turning to ash on a molecular level until all that was left of him was a neat pile of steam on the carpet. Boba Fett held up his rifle and looked at the smoking barrel.

"Huh, that was weird," he muttered.

"What the hell was that!?" Vader screamed.

Fett shrugged. "I just disintegrated him."

"Yes, thank you Fett, I can see that much!" Vader clarified, "Why? That was my only lead!"

"Uh, weapons misfire?"

"You fucking twat," Vader put his palm to his face. "My only lead. Here, room 638, cloud city. Now how am I supposed to find my son? Can you tell me that, Fett; can you tell me that?"

"Shit," Fett muttered, pulling out the piece of paper he'd been given, "You said 638?"

"Yes."

"We're in 639," Fett admitted.

Vader stared at him, his face unreadable behind the black rebreather mask. "Why?"

Fett held out the piece of paper. "Well, it says 639-"

"That is an 8!" Vader shouted.

Fett looked at the number again. "I dunno, that looks a lot like a 9 to me."

"I wrote the God damn thing! I know what it says!"

"Well, maybe you should have led the way," Fett said.

Vader was silent for a long moment. Finally, he came up with words. "We are going to walk across this hallway, kick open the door to 638, and question whoever is in there as to the location of my son," he explained, "Understand?"

"Yes," Fett said, then asked, "So, just for clarification, should I not disintegrate this one?"

"No! Don't disintegrate him! NO MORE DISINTEGRATIONS!"

"Okay, okay, I get it."

The two walked out of 639, stepped across the hallway, and entered 638 in the same fashion they had its cousin. To pedestrians in the hallway, there was the sound of muffled shouting, then one especially loud laser blast, followed by the sound of dust splashing across the windows. Then, the roar of an angry Sith.

"God damn it, Fett!"

"Whoops."

**Author's Note: Thanks for reading this. I hoped you enjoyed it, and if you didn't, I would really like to know. In fact, I'd really like to know any thoughts you have on the story, so if you don't mind dropping a review then please do so. The button is down just a bit from here, see? Bingo, right there. Just click that and type some stuff. You don't even need an account. How cool is that?**

**Seriously, though, thanks for reading. Now you know why Vader specifically told him no disintigrations. Honestly, I wouldn't have hired the guy after this...**


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